Sunday and Into Monday

Though Lorelai cooed and sighed over the ice cream sundae she and Luke shared at AC Petersen's, she maintained throughout the drive home that it was in no way superior to those at Luke's. It was when they reentered Stars Hollow that conversation turned to how they would handle the night's close. Lorelai asked Luke to drop her at the Inn and say goodnight to her there, leaving her to walk home. Luke was adamant that it was no way to end a proper first date.

"Or any date," he said. "Who does that?"

"If you come home with me, Babette will see," she told him. "Do we want people to know?"

"Know what?"

Lorelai looked at him darkly. "Luke. That we're, you know, this," she said, spreading her hands.

"And what does 'this' mean, Lorelai?"

"And you tell me that I'm work," she said.

"You are." He paused. "You're right, though."

Lorelai sighed. "It's not like I want to keep this a secret," she said. "Because secrets are—"

"Bad. Really bad. Never end well," he finished.

"Right. But…"

"It's Stars Hollow."

"They'll watch everything."

"Everything."

Luke eased the truck to a halt at a stop sign. "And if we're gonna do this," he said, gesturing between them, "we gotta do it on our own terms."

"I completely agree."

"And our own time," he said.

"You are so right," Lorelai said. "So we don't tell."

Luke nodded. "Say nothing."

"Be discreet."

"Fly under the radar."

A slow grin spread over Lorelai's face. "Think of all the secret nookie opportunities!"

"Excuse me?"

She giggled. "Stolen kisses, secret trysts, significant looks shared in the presence of others who are clueless. It's like a spy movie! A Victorian spy movie! I'm so going to have to buy a new wardrobe," she said.

As Luke pulled into the drive, Lorelai saw Babette emerging onto her porch next door. She groaned and indicated with a tilt of her head. "Ask me in for coffee," he told her.

"You don't drink coffee," she said.

"Tea, then."

"I don't drink tea, and there has never been any in this house."

"Lorelai, the details are not important."

"Coffee. Right."

Babette was calling her name before Lorelai was even out of the truck. "Lorelai, sugar, I'm so glad you're back; I've been meaning to talk to you."

She smiled and crossed the lawn, Luke following behind. "Hi Babette, how are you?"

"Oh, I'm fine, doll—can't remember the last time I was so well rested. That inn of yours is gonna be just heavenly," Babette said.

"Oh, thank you," Lorelai said. "I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

"I sure did. Sugar, I've been waiting for you to pop out all evening," she said.

"Oh, well, Luke and I went to Hartford to do some—"

"Car shopping," Luke said.

"'Bout time, you crazy girl. Riding around in that death trap for years, I don't know how you haven't had a broken neck three times over," Babette said.

"The Jeep is fine—I love that car."

"Why are you shopping for a new one, then?" Babette asked.

Lorelai shifted on her feet. "Oh, you know, lost a bet."

"Luke lose one, too? What's with the getup?"

Luke cleared his throat. "It was contingent on her going—I gotta dress like a moron."

"Moron is a great look for summer, I hear," Lorelai said. "So, Babette, what's up?"

"Rory, doll—haven't seen hide or hair of her since yesterday. She hasn't run off with some hoodlum, has she?"

Luke cleared his throat at this; Lorelai smiled softly. "No, Babette. She's just a little under the weather. Case of the sniffles, I think, but she's milking it like she's Debra Winger."

"Oh, sorry to hear that, honey; give her our love, huh?"

"Will do, Babette." She paused. "Well, I'm going to go in for some coffee—anyone want to join me? Babette?"

"Thanks, sugar, but if I drink that stuff this late I'm up all night with the heartburn. Getting old is a terrible thing," she said.

Lorelai put her arm around Babette and squeezed her shoulder. "Good thing no one around here's doing it," she said. She looked up. "Luke? I don't have tea, but I think I can offer you some hot water and lemon." She batted her lashes and smiled innocently.

Luke glowered. "Sounds perfect," he said.

They said their good nights to Babette and entered the Gilmore house through the kitchen door. Lorelai pulled the shades and leaned against the counter. "Nothing gets past that woman. All the lights are out here—Rory must be in bed already."

"She going to be okay?"

Lorelai nodded, her expression thoughtful. "She's got a lot to process right now. I think she lost her sense of who she is this year, first year of college and all, and she's got to figure it all out again. She's a tough nut, though."

"Like her mom," he said.

"Some would say I have nut-like qualities," Lorelai said. "She'll be okay, eventually. It's just going to take time."

Silence too much resembling the earlier, awkward one in the truck fell. Lorelai was acutely conscious of the distance between them: she stood at the counter by the sink, he by the dining table. She put out a hand to him and he stepped closer, closing it in both of his.

"I had a really, really good time with you," she told him.

"I want to take you out again," he said abruptly.

"Good. Me too."

"When?"

"Soon."

"Wednesday?"

"Perfect," she said. "Same Bat Time, Same Bat Channel?" He nodded. "Okay, then. I'll see you. Tomorrow?" Again, he nodded. "Well, good." He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her close. She took a breath, raised her eyes to meet his. "If I really am having a heart attack, you're the one paying for the medication, you know."

"Noted," he said. He watched the color in her face change, felt the heat of her flush even through her sweater. The same lock of hair was hanging by her cheek; he took his time, hooking it over his finger, sliding his finger along her cheek as he reached to tuck the hair behind her ear. Lorelai's breath caught in her throat. After a moment more, she rolled her eyes.

"Oh, get on with it already," she said and put her hand to his cheek, closing the small distance between them, kissing him softly.

"Romantic," he said after a long moment.

She shrugged, grinning. "Romance requires patience," she said, "which is a virtue I have not."

"I'm stunned," he said. He kissed her again, briefly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Lorelai braced herself against the counter as he left, wondering how much of this she could take before she spontaneously imploded. She put her hand to her throat at the thought and gasped, "dirty!" to herself.

Rory had finished Wangdoodles after her mother left, as well as the Ab Fab DVDs, and after picking at the leftover food, discovered a copy of Wuthering Heights hiding under the sofa. She tucked herself into Lorelai's bed, propped up on pillows, and stepped onto Emily Bronte's moor. This, she soon discovered, was not the best of ideas. After reading a while, she tossed the book across the room and curled up, pulling the covers over her head. With her knees tucked to her chest and eyes closed, the thinking began again. And when the thinking had gone on long enough, she tossed the covers aside, retrieved the book, and reached for the phone.

"Hi, Grandma," she said.

Later, when her mother peeked her head around the doorway, she sat upright in bed.

"Am I Catherine, or am I Heathcliff?" she demanded.

"Currently? It seems you're Sybil," Lorelai said, kicking off her shoes.

Rory waved the book at her. "Catherine or Heathcliff?"

"Chicken or beef?" Lorelai responded. "Babe, what are you talking about?"

"WutheringHeights Rory said.

Lorelai sighed as she stripped off her sweater and skirt. "Rory, honey, love of my heart, at the moment I'm not sure who's crazier: you or Emily Bronte. Until just a second ago, old Em had the clear advantage, what with the whole imaginary kingdom thing she had going, but you seem to be coming up from behind. How could you possibly think that you're either one of those two fictional characters?"

"I think the parallels are very clear," Rory said.

"Scoot over," Lorelai said, sliding under the covers. "I think you need to put the dangerous book down," she said, taking the novel from her daughter. "There are no parallels. You are Rory Gilmore. You'd kick Catherine's ass and Heathcliff? He's just a crazy stalker. Why are you reading this?"

"It was under the couch," Rory said.

"Ah, and suddenly everything's clear," Lorelai said. "No more crazy talk."

Rory nodded emphatically. "Crazy talk ceased. So," she said, rolling on her side to face her mother, "how was your big date?"

Lorelai smiled, closed her eyes, shook her head. "I," she said, "am in trouble. I am such big, big trouble."

"Tell me, tell me."

"It was amazing. It was amazing! It? Was amazing."

Rory laughed. "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, Rory, he did everything right. The restaurant, the movie, the locale—it was perfect." She covered her face with her hands. "Crap."

"Oh, Mom," Rory said, snuggling down on her shoulder.

"Oh, Rory," Lorelai replied. "And how are you? Besides crazy?"

"I am—I don't know. I did something." In response to her mother's questioning look, she said, "I called Grandma."

"Never a good idea in times of trial," Lorelai intoned. "And?"

Rory took a breath. "I think I'm going to Europe. With Grandma." After a lengthy silence, she spoke again. "Mom? Are you dead?"

"I don't know," Lorelai answered. "Pinch me." Rory reached out, but Lorelai batted her hand away. "Don't pinch me. Going to Europe? With Grandma? Why?"

"It seems like a good idea."

Lorelai sat up. "Babe, I think that if you want to go to Europe for your own personal edification and enjoyment or to spend quality time with your grandmother, to see great architecture and mock the personal hygiene of those who live on the continent, by all means, you should go. But if you're going because you need to run away, because the reality of the situation here is too much for you, that's just a really bad idea. Running away, it doesn't solve anything. Everything you left behind is just going to seem bigger and worse in retrospect, and when you get back it's just going to feel like the shoes you used to wear all the time that you love but are all worn out so you stopped wearing them and eventually, when you go to put them on again, they're too small and it's devastating."

"I'm not running away," Rory said. "Not entirely. A little, I think, but not entirely. I just—I don't know who I am anymore. I spent the whole year running back and forth between Yale and home, trying to be a grown up and a college student while still being the same Rory Gilmore I've always been, and it was confusing and weird and I didn't even know it. You know, Jess came to see me—"

"What? When?"

"After his mom's wedding. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. He came to see me, and he wanted me to go away with him, and I didn't want to go. I just wanted to stay here, in Connecticut, in Stars Hollow—everything else just seemed too big, and I didn't want to change anything. Everything here is familiar and safe and solid. And Dean was such a big part of that, so this whole mess with him and Lindsay—I don't know. I can't stay just because it's safe. And I don't want to leave, but that's why I think I kinda have to," she said. She raised her eyes to meet Lorelai's gaze. "What do you think?"

Lorelai leaned forward and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Do what you have to do, Rory. If you think you need to go and figure out who you are, you should go. But," she said, "don't go thinking you'll come back with all the answers. Or that you will be allowed to come back without massive amounts of presents and expensive chocolates for your mother."

"Well, that's a given."

"When do you go?"

"We're leaving Friday."

"So soon?"

"I think Grandma wants to get away, too," Rory said.

"So we have a lot to do this week," Lorelai said. "You're going to need a whole new traveling wardrobe and books and underwear and…"

"Mom, it's not a big deal."

"You're traveling with Emily Gilmore. There are things to be done, things to be bought," Lorelai said. She put her arms around her daughter. "And we can do it all tomorrow. Let's get some sleep." She paused. "You're totally sleeping here until you leave, aren't you?"

"Is that okay?"

"It's more than okay. You will have to go back eventually."

Rory sighed. "I know. That room—it just freaks me out a little."

Lorelai kissed her again and closed her eyes. "I, my friend, will take care of it."

"So, when you and Luke get married, I think that the entire wedding party should wear plaid," Rory said. "Plaid flannel tuxedos, plaid flannel bridesmaid dresses—and baseball hats for headpieces. And French fry bouquets! And Kirk could marry you, and—"

"You're hysterical. Now shut up, please. Sleep."

"Mom?"

"Shh."

"I love you," Rory said.

"Everyone does," Lorelai replied.

TBC: I'm going to keep the focus heavily on Lorelai and Luke, but I'm going to spend a little time with Rory on her trip as well, mostly as it relates to how Lorelai's goings-on in Stars Hollow, I think. Meaning that we'll mostly see Rory's trip through Lorelai's perspective. Thoughts?